"Take me home." Her eyes were as dark as the pub
we were in, and her voice was even smokier.
I contemplated the bottom of my sixth drink. Seventh. Sixth? It
didn't matter.
"You'd be disappointed." I motioned to the barkeep, "One
more." He rang it up on the computer.
"You wouldn't be." She drew in a breath, her crimson
lips parted into a salacious grin.
"Hookers deserve satisfaction, too." That lit the fuse; time
for fireworks.
"Why, I never..." her face flushed and her eyes sizzled with a
homicidal rage.
"Oh, on the contrary, I'm sure you have. Quite a bit, I would
guess." I know I was smirking. Her hand cocked back like the hammer
of a gun, but a burly man pushed between us glaring down at me,
bringing his face within a hair's breadth of mine.
"The lady deserves an apology, jackass." Have you ever noticed
that the combination of tobacco and hard liquor stings your eyes
almost to tears? I blinked repeatedly out of reflex.
I stood up, towering over him as he had towered over me when I was
sitting. The look in his eye was gratifying; I wouldn't need to
fight him.
"First, you'll need to define the word
'lady' as it certainly doesn't refer to her." Jerking my
thumb at the painted trollop. "My ex-wife bought this one's
services to gain leverage in our divorce."
He took a step back. "How do you know?"
"She isn't very imaginative." I took a pull of my drink.
"She texted me to meet here. Two hours later, this one wants my
body? I know I'm a handsome fella, but..." I'm not a handsome
fella.
We glared after her as she skulked out of the bar.
"Russ." He extended his hand.
"Dempsey." I said shaking it.
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